


Amor Omnia

by thekeyholder



Category: Muse
Genre: Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Inspired by Music, Introspection, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2319230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This AU story is from the point of view of a random, female character who accidentally learns about the great love between Matt and Dom and helps in its fulfilment. Kind of a songfic, a bit Christmas-y as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amor Omnia

**Author's Note:**

> This one-off is vaguely based on the song [Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8AWFf7EAc4&ob=av2e). I took the title from a shadow/light theatre show I saw a few years ago. It means Eternal Love.
> 
> Originally posted on my LJ in December 2011.

I had been driving for two hours in a monotone landscape: the road was bordered by bare, sad, grey trees which weren’t even covered by snow, something very unusual for December. That’s why I sighed with relief when I arrived in a small town and I decided to have at least a hot chocolate break. I found a free parking spot in the city centre and rejoiced for my good luck. The air was chilly only to the point of being pleasantly refreshing, so I went for a walk in the silent streets.

                                                                                              

Upon noticing that it wasn’t even nine o’clock, I decided to spend a bit of time here as I only had to arrive to a business meeting at noon and I knew that the trip would take just an hour. I found myself in a neat park, but my stomach was making weird noises; consequently, I entered a café first, but promised myself to return to the park after I’d finish eating. I ordered a breakfast menu and the mug of hot chocolate I’d craved, enjoying the warm atmosphere and the soft music playing in the background. My place was a great spot to observe people and I looked around freely. My attention was drawn to a slim figure dressed in black who was exiting the café with a guitar on his back.

Leaving a generous tip beside my mug, I shrugged on my coat and hurried outside, unsure about the reason behind my sudden urge to follow that stranger. Maybe I hoped to hear some Christmas songs played on guitar or maybe my instinct made me do it, I don’t know. I wandered around, trying to seem nonchalant and just “passing by” until I heard some chords. I walked in that direction until I arrived in a secluded part of the park. In the centre, there was a fountain which was probably delightful in the summer, but it wasn’t functioning now. Around the fountain, elegant white wooden benches were placed, separated by decorative bushes that were covered with Christmas lights. It was a beautiful and calm place, but it must have been even more magnificent at night with the lights.

I sat on a bench in front of the lonely guitarist who seemed to be warming up. I admired his long, pale fingers and his persistence, because not many would have played in such cold weather. At first I was hesitant to observe him more attentively, afraid that he might tell me to mind my own business, but it was clear that he didn’t perceive anything from the external world; he was just preoccupied by the thoughts and feelings whirling inside him. He was small and frail and he stood with slumped shoulders, as if a heavy burden was weighing on him. It’s difficult to explain, but his whole being exuded pain: his prominent jaw line, his sharp features, his small mouth; even the glossiness of his blue eyes or the way his dark hair stuck to his forehead.

Then, suddenly, he started playing a song I recognised from the first notes: _Hallelujah_. I gasped, surprised, and then covered my mouth with my hand, floods of emotions already coursing through my body.

“Nice song, isn’t it?”

I looked with wide eyes to my left; an elderly man sat down beside me on the bench, a newspaper in his hand. I nodded approvingly, returning my gaze to the sad guitarist.

“You’re not from here, are you?” the old man asked.

“No, I just stopped for a bit,” I answered, a bit annoyed that I couldn’t pay attention to the song.

“He comes here every year on the same day to sing this song,” the man said, hiding his face behind the newspaper.

I turned to him. Now that was unusual.

“Every year?” I asked curiously, eager to find out more.

“Yes, for the past four or five years. Matthew – at least I think that’s his name – was only around seventeen years old when he started coming here.”

“Do you happen to know what’s the reason?”

The old man sighed before answering: “He was in love with this other boy, what was his name? I think Dominic, but I’m not sure. It was a great love, but then their parents found out about it. I heard that Matthew comes here because this is the place where he and Dominic met for the first time.”

I bit my lower lip, not knowing what to say, and I gulped bitterly. But then he opened his mouth and the tenderest voice came out of there; a voice so serene and soft that one could have confounded it with a heart’s song or an angel’s whisper.

_“Well I heard there was a secret chord_  
That David played, and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do ya?”

The vibrations of his voice filled the air with magic; even the smallest change in the song brought it to a new dimension.

“I also heard this Dominic boy was the son of a priest. You can imagine the scandal that burst out when his parents found out…a priest’s son committing such a sin…”

Meanwhile, Matthew was singing as impeccably as a professional singer, possessing that rare quality to be able to open gates to new worlds with only a few sounds. As the song went higher, I imagined his voice as an angel climbing a staircase to heaven, until it reached perfection.

_“I used to live alone before I knew ya._  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march.”

“But...but what happened to them?” I asked slowly, aware of the lump in my throat.

“Nobody actually knows because Matthew hasn’t spoken a word since the incident,” the old man replied and looked at the guitarist with pity. “Such a loss, he was a brilliant kid. He dropped out of school. As for Dominic, his family moved to the US and never returned.”

The puzzle representing Matthew’s mystery was almost complete, and despite the missing pieces I finally understood the atmosphere of tragedy that surrounded him. If Dominic was his first love, then it made Matthew even more pitiable. His face was darkened by the shadows of grief and his voice quivered as he reached the verse _“Well, maybe there’s a god above”_. Matthew raised his blue eyes at the sky, maybe expecting a divine sign, but only some lost doves were flying above us. I wondered if he believed in God since a man serving God separated him from his lover. I don’t know, but one thing was sure: he still had faith and hope if he came back here every year.

Matthew was playing the last chords. The old man got up with a sigh and after searching in his pocket, he took out some money.

“I give him something every year…maybe he can gather enough to meet his love again.”

He nodded to me and I watched as he placed the money on the bench beside Matthew, who was now humming with his eyes closed. I felt a painful pressure in my chest and a strong desire to start sobbing, so following the example of the old man I took out my wallet. The guitarist was packing his things away, placing his instrument in its bag and ready to leave any minute. I hurried over to him and with a shaky voice, I handed him a sum which some might have found ridiculously high.

“Thank you for the song, it was truly beautiful. I’m…I’m so sorry about what happened to you. I hope you will fulfil your dream one day,” I said as a tear escaped from the corner of my eye and started rolling down on my cheek.

Matthew looked deeply in my eyes, wonder and surprise shining in his cerulean orbs. Suddenly, he reached out and wiped away my tear, and then he looked at his fingers and crumbled them. He looked back in my eyes and to my biggest surprise, he said:

“Thank you.”

I extended my arm with the money and it seemed that only then did he notice it.

“No, no, I can’t accept it…” he stuttered and blushed.

“Please,” I begged him and after long minutes of convincing, he finally took it.

He looked at the money, bit his lower lip, and with teary eyes he said: “This will be enough for a plane ticket.”

We shook hands and smiled at each other. I don’t know about him, but my heart was swelling with joy.

“Go home and pack your stuff. If you hurry, you’ll be together for Christmas.”

Matthew squeezed my hand warmly and smiled, and I watched him running out of the park. I sighed and went back to my car, humming Hallelujah to myself and smiling from time to time, imagining the happiness of Matthew and Dominic reuniting again after so many years.


End file.
